Enjoy the Moment
by Quiet-Jay
Summary: Elizabeth, John and Rodney attend an off-world festival which involves drinking an amnesia-inducing wine. Elizabeth gets a much-needed chance to relax and "enjoy the moment." Elizabeth-centric Sparky romance.
1. Part I

(Apologies to anyone who has seen this before.)

**Rating: **PG-13

**Prompt: **99. Elizabeth/John - alien amnesia. Written for OTL fest.

**Spoilers: **None, really. Alludes to "Before I Sleep." Set in an AU season 4, with S2/3 cast.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own them; not making money.

**AN:** Big thanks to Bil! for an amazing beta. Also, I borrowed a line from gothfeary's "PickUp Lines from Stargate Command." You'll know it when you see it.

**

* * *

**

As soon as the whirling blueness had dissipated, John flashed her a grin and surreptitiously picked up the stopwatch he had ready on his lap. He held it close to his chest, out of sight of the backseat passengers, and made a show of pressing the start button. Elizabeth just smiled confidently and leaned back in her seat.

The view from the Puddlejumper was spectacular—the settlement where they were to attend what Teyla had described as "year's end celebration" was on an honest-to-God tropical island. Elizabeth had visited once before, when they had first began trade negotiations with the Mereans, and the scenery was as beautiful as she remembered. The Stargate was located on another island several kilometres from the village, visited regularly but too small for permanent habitation. The flight to the village took them over a spray of similarly small islands which resembled, in John's words, "cornflakes sprinkled on blue Jello" when viewed from this altitude.

This ocean was a little bluer than the water around Atlantis, she thought, admiring the way the sunlight sparkled over the surface. The sky was absolutely cloudless. Having been assured that the evening would be balmy, Elizabeth had decreed the dress code for the Atlantis attendees (herself, John, and the half a dozen scientists who had spent a significant amount of time on Merea) to be semiformal civvies. Most of the group were attired in brightly-colored shirts or blouses, with a couple of the women (Elizabeth included) opting for sundresses. John and Rodney had ventured out to the limits of "semi-formal" and were wearing what had to be the most hideous Hawaiian shirts in two galaxies. She had decided to let it go. If anybody asked she could honestly say that they were traditional garments for this kind of event. From what Teyla and the Mereans had told her, this celebration was essentially a beach party. Albeit with one, rather important, catch.

"Couldn't we, you know, _pretend_ to drink it?" came an all-too-familiar whine from the back seat. "That way they're happy, we're happy…"

It was the 'catch' that had had Rodney grousing on and off for the last fortnight. Elizabeth sighed and looked over at John. He held out the stopwatch for her inspection and smirked. "47 seconds. I win."

"Fair enough."

Shrugging philosophically, Elizabeth retrieved her second-to-last KitKat from the pocket of her coat and handed it over. John ripped into the packet immediately, snapping the bar in two and offering her half.

Elizabeth took it with a grin and a raised eyebrow. "Trying to butter me up, Colonel?"

"Just being a gracious winner."

"Hel_lo_?" Rodney reminded them of his presence in the Jumper. "Are you paying any attention to my idea?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and swiveled to face her irritable friend. "How many times do I have to say this, Rodney? Compulsory means compulsory. I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with the situation myself, but these people are honoring us by—"

"I know, I know. Sacred festival, guests of honor, yada yada yada. But what if they have hidden cameras?"

"Cameras? They don't even have flushing toilets," John pointed out.

"Um, does the word 'Genii' ring any bells? How about 'secret underground bunker'?"

"_Rodney_." She glared. "These people have been our allies for over three years. Teyla trusts them, and so do I."

"I just don't like the idea of ingesting some alien mumbo-jumbo. I mean, who knows what their health and safety standards are like."

"Never stopped you before," John interjected.

"Dr. Beckett ran tests on all the samples the Mereans kindly provided us and found nothing that could harm us," Elizabeth said and shrugged. "Just don't do anything regrettable and you'll have nothing to worry about in the morning."

Rodney sighed but, thankfully, shut up. Elizabeth turned back to the picturesque view and took advantage of the quiet to mentally review what she been told to expect of this "year's end" festival one more time. They certainly weren't going in blind. Their Merean liaison, an anthropologist called Neela, had been extremely forthcoming and Teyla had participated in several of these festivals, though she would not be attending this one.

Elizabeth still didn't like it. The afternoon would be spent fine-tuning their current trading arrangements—no problem there. In the evening, the festivities would officially begin with a ceremony the Mereans called 'Emanais.' This would involve speeches (something Rodney _and_ John had complained about) and culminate in each participant drinking 'Emanais wine.'

The wine, she was given to understand, was produced from a fruit unique to this planet and would not impair judgement, lower inhibitions, or have any of the other effects associated with Earth alcohol. Instead, it would render them all retrograde amnesiacs for the subsequent five or six hours. During which time they would relax with their hosts, enjoying music and food and, oddly enough, get to know each other better. The obvious question was, what was the point, if they wouldn't remember anything they learned? Neela's answer had been somewhat cryptic: "What the mind forgets, the heart remembers."

Carson had been quite fascinated by the apparently harmless beverage. But he wasn't the one who had to attend a party knowing that he wouldn't remember any of it in the morning.

Elizabeth promised her future self that she would follow her advice to Rodney: play it safe and don't do anything you wouldn't normally do. The last thing she needed was to spend the upcoming days worrying about what she might have done while 'under the influence.'

* * *

"Free of the fetters of memory, free of the fear of remorse, we abandon this night to ourselves, to one another and to truth. Let our souls rejoice in the knowledge granted them in this night of unbridled communion."

_A night of unbridled communion?_ God, it sounded like the tag-line to a Harlequin bodice-ripper. Elizabeth eyed the amber liquid in her cup, concealing apprehension behind polite interest with the ease of experience. It smelled like cinnamon. Glancing to her left she saw Rodney swirling his with open distaste and shot him a sharp look. His face fell resignedly and he sniffed cautiously at the drink before taking a sip. An expression of pleased surprise crossed his face and he downed the rest.

Elizabeth shook her head and turned her attention to John. The set of his shoulders told her he wasn't as relaxed about all this as he tried to appear. He smiled tightly and raised his goblet in her direction.

"Cheers."

She replied in kind and clinked her cup with his. They held each other's gaze as they both drank deeply, and Elizabeth felt a familiar spark run through her body. Steady candlelight illuminated his handsome face and thoughts she had fiercely suppressed since first hearing about the ceremony reared their heads with more force than ever. _One night, no consequences…_ She looked away.

"Excuse me, Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard?"

Formalities having been brought to a conclusion, people had begun milling about, talking quietly and Elizabeth turned to find Neela beside her.

"It is time to relocate to the foreshore, if you will accompany me?" The anthropologist gestured toward the doorway of the temple, through which a steady stream of Mereans were already heading.

"Of course," said Elizabeth. There would be a walk of about 20 minutes to reach the beach, which would give the Emanais wine time to take effect.

When the three of them had exited the temple, Neela spoke again. "The movement you and the Colonel made before you drank, with your cups? Could you please explain it to me?"

As she and John did their best to explain the custom, Elizabeth found herself relaxing. A little, anyway. Cultural exchange was really what this evening was about—strengthening ties and building relationships with their allies. Even, or perhaps especially, if their allies' ways of going about these things seemed more than a little strange.

* * *

"Aieeeee!"

Seven-month-old Ria squealed delightedly in Elizabeth's arms, making a grab for her necklace with tiny fingers and toes. Elizabeth chuckled and tucked the silver pendant into the squirming infant's grasp.

"Here you are, honey."

The baby cooed happily while her father sighed. "She seems to have developed a taste for beautiful things," he said ruefully. "I fear it will cost me much in the years to come, for I do not have it within me to deny her what she wants."

"How could you? She's adorable," said Elizabeth, keeping a hold of her necklace in case the little girl decided to stick it in her mouth. She held the baby for a few minutes longer, laughing at the proud mother's description of how the girl already had her father at her beck and call, before excusing herself.

Making her way toward the shore, she sat down on an unoccupied log away from the crowd, kicked off her sandals and stretched her legs out until her toes pointed to the water. For a moment she admired the view—a dusting of thousands of stars across the darkening sky melted into the ocean, which looked almost black in the evening light. Growing up in cities of light pollution and skyscrapers, it hadn't been until she moved galaxies that Elizabeth had seen a decent night sky and it hadn't gotten old yet. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

_Enjoy the moment_, she reminded herself, as her older self had once done. It was something she had kept in mind over the years—not that she was likely to forget advice from a time-traveling alternate version of herself—and tried to follow at least occasionally. A cup of coffee on the balcony, a stroll through Atlantis' elegant hallways, a few minutes gossiping with Carson or teasing John were all she allowed herself.

Footsteps on the sand behind her caused Elizabeth to open her eyes.

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" She smiled without turning around.

"That the best you can do, flyboy?"

John's legs appeared beside her, closely followed by the rest of him. He lowered himself onto the log and offered her a mug. "What? It's not like you're going to remember it."

Elizabeth accepted the drink (normal alien fruit juice this time) and acknowledged his point with a tilt of her head. "True, but a girl likes to think she's worth more than a cliché."

"Alright…" He sipped his drink, looking thoughtful. "Did you get that dress on PX3-372? Because you look out of this world."

He looked her up and down with an exaggeratedly lascivious smirk, making Elizabeth blush. Her dress consisted of a tight bodice and airy skirt that fell to the tops of her calves. She knew it was flattering but the low neckline and thin straps revealed a lot of skin and she smoothed the purple fabric over her knees a tad uncomfortably.

"_John_."

"Hey, if a guy can't check out his boss when she's under the influence of an amnesia-inducing alien cocktail, when can he?" he teased.

"You're lucky I'm not going to remember this," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"Yeah… Seriously though, you look beautiful." This time his eyes stayed on her face and he was the one blushing.

"Thank-you."

After a moment John broke the eye contact and took another mouthful of juice. "Enjoying the party?" he asked.

"Not really," Elizabeth replied wryly. "I spent the last few hours being filled in on every event of any significance to take place since my last visit, which was more than three years ago, and discussing projected crop yields for the coming season. It feels an awful lot like work."

"You know, you could have just told them to shove it and tomorrow no-one would be the wiser."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she admitted with a grin. "But, what was it Neela said? 'What the mind forgets—'"

"The heart remembers," John finished for her.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him. "You were actually paying attention back there?"

"I know what it means too," he said, and waited for her to bite. She granted him an eye-roll.

"Okay, enlighten me."

"It means you should stop working and come have some fun."

He was looking at her with 'please' written all over his face and Elizabeth couldn't have said 'no' even if she had wanted to.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied with a grin, reaching for her shoes.

As they walked back toward the warmth of the bonfire, Elizabeth silently chastised herself. Flirting with John was _not_ playing it safe. It just seemed to come so easily to them… Especially in a setting removed from briefing rooms and uniforms and people whose needs came before her own.

They wove through clusters of Mereans to where Rodney and a couple of the others from Atlantis were talking animatedly with a few of the locals. Scattered around the fire were the Merean equivalent of deck chairs, which were actually more like hammocks. Festively patterned material hung from a framework of thin logs to create a couch that swayed with the movements of its occupants. They were big enough for two people to share, if they didn't mind getting a little cosy. Elizabeth eyed the one remaining empty seat warily for a moment before John's hand landed on the small of her back.

"You sit down," he said, prodding her toward the chair. "I'll grab us some snacks."

"Elizabeth! Thank God you're here," exclaimed Rodney. "I've been trying to explain the Super Bowl to Neela here for the last half an hour but she doesn't believe me."

Elizabeth laughed and sat down. As far to the left end of the seat as she could manage. John was a friend, a close friend—of course she could share a seat with him while they chatted about football.

_Enjoy the moment._

_

* * *

_

Rodney was bored. The conversation had turned, unsurprisingly, to that topic which seemed to be of universal human interest: sex. Not explicitly, of course. The Mereans, as was the norm here in the Pegasus galaxy, married young. Really young. As in, younger than Rodney had been when he got his first girlfriend. Those who were sitting with them, mostly married and ranging in age from late twenties to thirties, were fascinated by the concept of spending years 'trialling' different partners before settling down.

The Atlantis folk were just as curious about their allies' way of doing things—courtship and marriage wasn't something that came up much in trade negotiations. Except that one time, but that had all been a terrible misunderstanding and completely Sheppard's fault.

So, the two cultures were trading anecdotes—first dates, worst dates, sneaking out at night to visit your betrothed in the next village… Never having been one for enjoying tales of others' cutesy misadventures, Rodney was getting _really_ bored.

Until he noticed something. Elizabeth looked different. And not just because of the pretty flowery dress that showed more skin than he'd ever seen her reveal before. Or because her hair was clipped up differently and she was wearing more jewellery than usual.

He helped himself to a couple of mini meat pies—snack food was definitely the Mereans' forte—and examined her more closely. She and Sheppard were sitting awfully close. Not that they had much choice with the way the hammock-couch sagged in the middle, but they didn't seem to mind. At some point in the last hour or so, Sheppard had managed to sneak his arm around her. His fingers were stroking her bare shoulder absently.

They both made the occasional comment to the group but seemed to be in their own little world half the time. _He_ would lean over to say something in Elizabeth's ear and then _she_ would giggle or roll her eyes and _he_ would get that ridiculous happy puppy expression.

As Rodney watched, Elizabeth leaned forward to reach a tray of finger-food, causing her dress to slip a few inches higher on her thighs. Sheppard blatantly ogled her and Rodney could have sworn Elizabeth noticed, but she didn't pull her dress back down. She handed Sheppard a cracker and laughed when the man managed to get dip on his chin in the process of eating it. Rodney prepared to avert his eyes. It wasn't necessary though—Elizabeth simply swiped the dip with her thumb and a smirk that earned her a mock-glare in return. She may as well have licked it off, he thought, the way they were looking at each other. Were they always like that?

He was on the verge of telling them to get a room when a pair of green eyes beneath a blonde fringe entered his field of vision.

"Would you like some more wine, Dr. McKay?"

* * *

"Mind holding this while I take a walk?"

Elizabeth lifted her head off John's shoulder and looked at his outstretched hand in surprise. It was empty. She rolled her eyes, but put her hand in his. A chance to stretch her legs would be nice.

"Where to?"

"Down to the water?" he suggested, standing and tugging her up.

"As long as you don't expect me to get wet," she said.

They chatted their way slowly down to where the remnants of waves met their ends on the sand. Compromising, she walked just out of reach of the water while John's feet received a bath every few seconds. He didn't let go of her hand. She knew she should reestablish some distance but couldn't bring herself to ruin the moment even as she asked herself, with some alarm, how they had gotten to this point so very fast.

_So much for 'don't do anything you wouldn't normally do,'_ she thought, biting her lip. Here she was taking a moonlit stroll along a beach, holding hands with an exceptionally attractive man who had spent the evening demonstrating that he was every bit as interested in her as she was in him. And feeling like the weight of the last four years had been magically lifted off her shoulders.

Suddenly, tepid water splashed her feet. Elizabeth yelped and jerked away, only to realize that her feet were nowhere near the water. Folding her arms, she fixed John with a glare. He smirked.

"You're going to regret that, Colonel."

The smirk grew wider and he advanced slowly toward her, hands casually in pockets. "You can't go to a beach party and not at least get your feet wet."

She backed away, equally slowly, eying him with open suspicion.

"Watch me."

"One way or another, Doctor Weir, you are going in the water."

She hit him with the eyebrow and threw down the gauntlet. "What are you going to do? Pick me up and throw me in?"

"If that's what it takes…"

He lunged and she ran. Of course, it was a lost cause—she was a fairly good runner, when her knee wasn't playing up, but John's legs were longer and he wasn't wearing backless sandals. She made it about fifty yards along the shore before one slipped off. When she paused to ditch the other a strong arm encircled her waist, another went beneath her knees and all of a sudden Elizabeth found herself lifted clear off the ground. She shrieked and instinctively threw her arms around John's neck.

"Gotcha."

"Okay, you win," she conceded, breathing heavily from running and laughing at the same time. "Now _put me down_."

"Not yet." He carried her toward the water as she continued to protest, giving her best intimidating glare and _ordering _that he let her go.

It hit them both at the same instant and with the force of a stunner—the intimacy of the way he was holding her, the feel of his arms snugly around her, the proximity of their flushed faces, the slightly clichéd but very real romance of the whole situation.

Silence fell, and John lowered her legs until she was standing. His hand drifted up to settle lightly on her hip and Elizabeth froze. They were standing so close she could feel his body heat. Her hands stayed clasped behind his head, neither pulling forward nor pushing him away. She watched John's eyes flicker up her body and search her face before settling on her mouth. He swallowed.

"'lizabeth…"

She couldn't pull away. It was too perfect and she wanted him to kiss her so badly. But she couldn't bring herself to meet him halfway either. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny imp was waving its arms and shouting, "You're the leader! He's your military commander! Don't go there!" But she had been going there all night and he had been right behind her. Or maybe leading her, she wasn't sure.

John's thumb brushed her cheek and her breath caught with anticipation. She felt his fingers slide into her curls. He didn't pull her closer, just leaned in until she could feel his breath soft on her lips.

Elizabeth's eyes were drifting closed and her lips parting of their own accord when a woman's scream ripped through the night. She and John both snapped their heads around, seeking the source of the unexpected sound.

"What the…?"

Angry shouts rose above the faint hum of chatter and music. A man stumbled out of a group of people and fell as if he had been shoved. Two others followed, one waving his arm menacingly.

"Oh my God, that's Markson."

She and John were a good 200 yards away but Elizabeth could make out the botanist's striped shirt. They headed back up the beach as swiftly as they could, Elizabeth only now realizing that John had set her down in water that came up to her knees.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" she demanded when they reached the disturbance.

Markson and Kuznetsov, another botanist, were being pulled, cursing, off a struggling Merean man Elizabeth hadn't met. A few feet away, a young woman sobbed in the arms of her friends. Elizabeth took in the situation at a glance—torn dress, her incensed men, glowering victim.

The Merean elders clustered around the prone local sounding decidedly unhappy. Elizabeth decided to leave them to it—she had no jurisdiction here—and turned her attention to her own people. Markson's nose was a bloodied mess and Kuznetsov was cradling his left arm.

"Sorry, ma'am," said Kuznetsov, "but he was scaring her and we couldn't just let him."

Others in the surrounding crowd were nodding so she decided to skip the details. "I see. I think it would be best if you headed back to Atlantis. Get Dr. Beckett to take a look at that," she said, gesturing to Markson's face.

"Yes, ma'am."

Spotting Neela in the circle of onlookers, Elizabeth gave her a questioning glance. Their liaison inclined her head in agreement with the plan and Elizabeth nodded. "John?"

"I'll take them back to the Jumper, fly 'em home, and come back to pick you up. Shouldn't take more than an hour, there and back."

"Thank-you. Make sure you all give Carson a full report now because none of us are going to remember this in the morning."

All three men nodded agreement. John held her gaze a second longer than the others before they turned to leave.

"John?"

He looked back.

"I'll save you a dance," she promised, ignoring the raised eyebrows around her. For a split-second, John's expression resembled that of a toddler on the verge of stamping his foot and refusing to budge. Then he was gone.

* * *

The elders apologized effusively and at length, despite the fact that Elizabeth wouldn't remember the incident, and it took her half an hour to convince them that the Atlanteans would take no offense. She also inquired as to the harasser's fate and was relieved to hear that measures were in place to deal with such occurrences (rare though she was repeatedly assured they were).

Elizabeth offered sincere apologies of her own as well—her employees had started a fist fight, after all. Although she was fairly confident their actions had been justified she could never be fully satisfied with a violent resolution no matter what the situation.

Consciences on both sides successfully soothed, Elizabeth found herself at a loss. The crowd was beginning to thin now, as a chill tinged the ocean breeze and she glanced at her wristwatch. Less than two hours until the Emanais wine wore off, some of which would be spent traveling back to Atlantis and getting a once-over from Carson's team.

The nip in the air reminded Elizabeth that her shoes were down by the water. She retrieved them and felt a lump in her throat at the sight of footprints in the sand already beginning to be washed away by the tide. Out of reach of the ripples, she wrapped her coat around herself and stood staring glumly at the horizon over which the Jumper would appear.

"Glaring will not hasten his return."

Neela joined her and Elizabeth ducked her head ruefully—an exasperated Peter Grodin had once told her the same thing in the Gateroom. She knew her feelings were written all over her face and posture but it didn't seem worth the effort to maintain her usual poker face anymore.

"I'm sure the Colonel is going as fast as he can," the other woman added slyly. "Did he not say he would return within the hour?"

"I think John was being a little optimistic," Elizabeth said, eyes on her twisting fingers.

"Perhaps you are right. But do not worry, Dr. Weir." Neela placed a hand on Elizabeth's arm and spoke earnestly. "What you and your Colonel Sheppard have begun tonight will not be forgotten. Not in your hearts."

Elizabeth managed a grateful half-smile. She couldn't share Neela's faith, but the Mereans were right about one thing. Without the "fetters of memory" tonight was a chance to indulge herself with the things Dr. Weir, expedition leader couldn't. Things Elizabeth could finally admit to herself that she _needed_. She just hoped that the opportunity hadn't flown past before she was ready to seize it.

* * *

John slowed the jumper to a less-than-breakneck velocity a couple of minutes out from the celebration on the beach. No matter how badly he wanted to get back to the party, it wouldn't be a good idea to come hurtling in and scare everyone. Carson already probably thought he was nuts—he'd radioed to describe the situation before arriving in Atlantis, then practically thrown the injured men out of the Jumper before reversing back through the gate.

It had occurred to him to leave his future self a note mentioning something about the new turn his relationship with Elizabeth had taken this evening. Three things had stopped him: it seemed unfair to do so without her knowledge, he wanted to get back as soon as possible, and he had absolutely no idea what to write. He was also well aware that tonight was probably a one-off. Elizabeth had her reasons for not moving past friendship and occasional flirting in their normal lives and John respected that. With a certain amount of frustration.

The jumper drew closer to the island he was aiming for and the tiny, ant-like creatures on the beach began to resolve into people. John squinted at the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of purple. Should he remind Elizabeth of her promise? Or just kiss her straight away? Would that be romantic or desperate? What if she'd changed her mind in the 45 minutes he'd been gone? He rushed the landing and the Jumper bounced once before coming to rest on the sand.

* * *

From a seat on the fringe of the gathering, Elizabeth watched John scan the crowd until his eyes lit on her. She walked over to meet him, feeling her heart beat a little faster.

"Hey," she said with a smile. "Are Teyla and Carson managing to hold down the fort?"

"Yeah, they're fine. You," he pointed at her, "owe me a dance."

Elizabeth took a slow breath and stepped closer. "Actually," she said quietly, "I had something else in mind." Wrapping her arms around John's neck, she kissed him without holding back.

When they had both recovered from the rush enough to think semi-coherently, John tugged her into the shadow of a large tent, away from prying eyes. He slipped his hands beneath her coat and around her waist to pull her close.

"We're not going to remember this."

"I know."

After that they didn't waste time with words. One minute they were teasing each other with quick, featherlight kisses, in the next deep and sensuous kisses left Elizabeth weak at the knees and both of them gasping for air. Hands were everywhere, finally able to touch what had been off-limits for too long. While John explored her neck she raked her fingers through his hair, eliciting a low sigh. Then she tugged his mouth back up to hers and simply held on tight as they got lost in four years of pent-up desire.

* * *

That was how Rodney had discovered them twenty minutes later. It had taken a well-aimed piece of driftwood to get the pair's attention. Suddenly, the brain-bleach effect of the Emanais wine hadn't seemed like such a bad thing.

And now, as if it wasn't bad enough having been treated to the sight of his bosses trying to extract each other's tonsils with their tongues, _he_ (at Sheppard's 'request') had to fly the Jumper while they canoodled in the passenger seat. It was just his luck to be the one left holding the baby, so to speak. It was also just his luck to hit it off with a gorgeous blonde who had legs up to _there_ on the one night it didn't matter.

Silence had fallen over the Jumper, punctuated only by yawns and the occasional murmur. It was just the three of them in the forward compartment since the others had opted for the rear where they could avoid getting an eyeful. Rodney grimaced as he made a slight altitude adjustment. _At least Sheppard's too distracted to play backseat driver._ He sighed. Loudly.

"Buck up, McKay," Sheppard growled half-heartedly. "It's not like you're going to remember this."

"For which I am more grateful than you can imagine," Rodney muttered. "But for your information, you weren't the only one making conquests tonight."

"Oh, really?"

"There's no need to be so skeptical." Rodney turned to scowl at the smirk he could hear in Sheppard's tone. "Her name is Lera and I'll have you know she was very—" He stopped, something in the scene before him rendering the normally verbose scientist lost for words.

"Huh."

They didn't look as if they wanted to tear each other's clothes off anymore. Elizabeth was sitting in Sheppard's lap, nestled against his right side. Her eyes were closed but he could tell she was awake by the way her fingers batted at Sheppard's questing hand. Her drowsy smile radiated contentment; his gaze was almost worshipful.

Rodney wasn't surprised she was tired, given the late nights she had worked in preparation for this festival, but he was pretty sure he hadn't seen Elizabeth this relaxed since before they left Earth. He was pretty sure he hadn't _ever_ seen her this happy.

"What?"

Elizabeth's eyes flickered open at that point and she twisted to regard Rodney with her trademark raised eyebrow. Even half asleep the expression had force. He swallowed.

"Nothing. It's just, you two look… Never mind."

"Needed this," murmured Elizabeth, eyes drifting shut again. Her fingers moved gently where they rested against Sheppard's jaw and he, as if responding to some private signal, dipped his head to drop a kiss on her lips. She tucked her face into his shirt and a moment later the slump of her body indicated that she was asleep. Sheppard stared at the woman in his arms, the smile slipping from his face.

Rodney turned back to the control panels. "Maybe you should—" he began awkwardly.

"Can't," said Sheppard, his eyelids starting to droop too. "'liz'beth doesn't…" He trailed off into a yawn and finished the sentence with a shrug.

With another sigh, Rodney decided that now wasn't the time to start trying to understand his friends' 'thing' and occupied himself for the remainder of the trip with thoughts of Lera and her pretty green eyes—before even that became impossible.


	2. Part II

**~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ PART II ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~**

It had been arranged, at Carson's insistence, that they would all spend the night under observation in the infirmary upon returning, in case of side effects and that was where Elizabeth found herself the morning after the trip to Merea. While the doctor checked her over she took a moment to get her thoughts in order and probe her memory for the expected gap. The trip to Merea, the Emanais ceremony and wine, the walk to the beach… Things got a bit fuzzy then and the last thing she remembered was laughing at John explaining tequila shots to Neela. A corner of her mouth quirked upward.

After receiving assurance that she was experiencing no negative side-effects from her night out—and in fact felt rather refreshed—Carson filled her in on the minor altercation that had apparently taken place and released her to her quarters. She took the least populated route, not wanting to think about her appearance after sleeping in her clothes in the infirmary, and pondered the odd situation.

Elizabeth had never been one for getting so plastered she couldn't remember what she'd done and she had expected to find the gap in her memory more disorienting than it was. It _was_ damned frustrating—naturally she wanted to know how the politics of the evening had progressed and she hated to think of the insights into Merean culture she must have gained, now lost. Of course there was absolutely nothing she could do about it so she consoled herself with the not inconsiderable knowledge that nothing had gone horribly wrong.

And, if her mood now was any indication, it seemed she had had a good time. Elizabeth found herself humming as she removed her make-up and quickly showered. She ran a comb through her wet hair and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. It was long enough for a decent ponytail now and she pulled it up experimentally. John had once said it looked nice that way… She shook her head to dispel the thought and noticed something unsettling._ Is that…? _She turned her head to get a better look at the skin below her left ear. It was.

"Oh my God…"

Apparently, she'd had a _very_ good time. And so had somebody else. Elizabeth let her hair drop and buried her face in her hands with a groan.

"So much for playing it safe," she muttered.

* * *

By mid-morning, Elizabeth had finalized the written briefings for the upcoming week's missions, rearranged the duty roster to compensate for two sick department heads, and was halfway through Doctor Zelenka's proposal to reroute the plumbing in the living quarters. Not bad, she thought, considering.

"Elizabeth! I remember!"

Rodney chose that moment to burst into her office wearing the expression of a child on Christmas morning. Trailing after him was a flustered Carson.

"Remember what?" Elizabeth asked warily, her confusion increasing when Rodney's expression turned dreamy.

"Lera," he replied. "We talked for hours. She had the cutest—"

"Oh give over, Rodney," Carson interrupted in exasperation. "She won't remember you."

"You remember last night?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes!"

She turned to Carson. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know yet. As soon as Doctor McKay agrees to come to the infirmary," he looked pointedly at Rodney, "I'll run some tests. The results will take several hours though."

Elizabeth pressed her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes. She tuned out Rodney as he continued to wax eloquent about Lera and considered the situation. One thing, at least, was clear.

"Rodney," Elizabeth raised her head to fix the scientist with a stern look, "you are not to mention this to the Mereans. Any of them."

"What? Why not?"

"Because as far as they are concerned the whole point of the festival is that nobody remembers what happened. For all we know, they might find your apparent immunity extremely offensive."

"It's not like I saw anything damning," Rodney grumbled. "In fact, as far as parties go, the whole thing was pretty tame…" He glanced sidelong at her and swallowed. "More or less."

Elizabeth willed herself not to blush and wondered if there was any way she could arrange to forget today as well.

"Actually," Carson said, "I think it would be best if you didn't say anything to anybody in Atlantis either, Rodney."

Rodney protested but Elizabeth had to agree. "I think that would be for the best," she said slowly. "We all went into this with the expectation that we wouldn't remember anything. It would be both unfair and unnecessary to change that now. I'll brief Colonel Sheppard but other than that, Rodney, I expect you to keep this to yourself. Understood?"

She chose to interpret his eye-roll as acquiescence and nodded firmly. "Good. Now I believe you're needed in the infirmary?"

"Speaking of which," Carson added as they both turned to leave, "I thought you'd like to know, the others have all woken up and nobody seems to be any the worse for wear. Except for Kuznetsov and Markson of course, but they'll be fine in a few days."

"Thanks, Carson. I'll schedule a debriefing later this afternoon."

Rodney sniffed. "Why? I'm the only one who remembers anything and I'm under a gag order."

When they were out of earshot Elizabeth let out a loud sigh. She had _promised_ herself she wouldn't. But she had. And now goddamned _McKay_ had seen who-knew-what.

* * *

Elizabeth made her way to the mess hall, intending to take a sandwich back up to her office. When she got there though, something about the hum of conversation and bustle of people enticed her to stay. She took a seat at an unoccupied table and watched the comings and goings with a quiet smile.

"Excuse me, Doctor Weir?"

Kate Heitmeyer approached with her own lunch tray in hand and Elizabeth greeted the psychologist warmly, motioning her to sit.

"I hope you don't mind," Kate said, "but I wanted to ask how you are feeling after last night—whether you found the experience as cleansing as the Mereans believe."

"Well, I don't know about cleansing, but I do feel… lighter." Elizabeth tried to find the words to describe her mood. "As if I've just come back from a vacation."

Kate considered her words and nodded. "That makes sense—you did essentially take a day off, even if you don't remember it."

"I suppose I did. Although it is frustrating not being able to remember anything," she acknowledged with a grimace.

"Yes, I imagine it would be. It seems you enjoyed yourself though."

Elizabeth felt her face heat and ducked her head.

"Oh?" The psychologist's tone on the single syllable was disturbingly knowing and Elizabeth sighed.

"Actually, it seems I had a little more fun than I intended…" she confessed, pushing her hair back briefly to reveal the evidence.

"Elizabeth, I'm impressed! I suppose you don't remember who…?"

Hoping her pink cheeks wouldn't belie her, Elizabeth answered in the negative. Kate leaned forward conspiratorially with a twinkle in her eye. "Did you…?"

Elizabeth dropped the corner of sandwich she was about to take a bite from.

"No, of course not!"

"Just curious," Kate said with a grin.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth turned her attention back to her food and deftly changed the subject until Kate had to leave for her next appointment. Before doing so, however, she gave Elizabeth a serious look and an unexpected remark that left the diplomat blushing. "Elizabeth, I think I can guess who left that mark and if _I_ can guess, I'm sure _you_ have a pretty good idea."

Back behind her desk, Elizabeth rested her chin on her palm and stared at her laptop while her thoughts whirled. Part of her wished she could believe she had done… whatever it was she had done… with a stranger. Some Merean man she would never see again. But the reality was there was only one person at that party she would have let touch her that way.

Acknowledging that fact did nothing for her productivity. It had been a very long time since anybody had been in a position to leave a mark like that and her imagination produced scenario after vivid scenario detailing exactly how it could have gotten there. Admittedly, it wasn't anything that hadn't crossed her mind before, but never in the context of knowing it had actually _happened_. She imagined warm arms swaying her in a slow dance, the rasp of stubble against her cheek, his lips gently coaxing hers apart…

* * *

John had to agree with McKay about the post-Merea debriefing being a waste of time. It took all of five minutes to establish that nobody was feeling any ill-effects and for Elizabeth to pass on the Merean elders' message thanking them for their participation.

Normally, he didn't mind debriefings because, well, Elizabeth was there. But today she didn't look over to gauge his opinion on anything or share a smirk with him when McKay started complaining. It was as if she wasn't wholly there. And McKay kept giving him weird looks.

Finally, at the very end Elizabeth flicked her attention his way and asked if he would mind staying for a moment. That suited John fine—he had something to return to her. After the door swished shut behind Markson, he moved to perch on the table closer to where she was shuffling papers.

"You okay? You seemed a little distant before."

Elizabeth glanced at him in surprise but quickly refocussed on her mission file. "I'm fine. I just needed to inform you—Rodney remembers everything from last night."

"What? How?"

She gave a calm half-shrug without looking up. "Carson ran some blood tests and thinks it was probably the antihistamines he insists on taking interfering with the active compound in the Merean drink. I've ordered Rodney to keep it to himself. Only you and I and Carson know and I'd prefer it to stay that way."

John considered her words. He didn't much like the thought of Rodney remembering—especially if he had done what he suspected he might have done—but there wasn't much he could do about that.

"Sounds good to me," he agreed. "Although the odds of McKay keeping his mouth shut for any length of time aren't great."

When Elizabeth grimaced instead of smiling John deduced that her odd mood was related to the events of the Merean mission. Which reminded him…

"Hey, I've got something I think is yours," he said, fishing around in his pocket. He held out a single earring. It was oval and made from some kind of shiny shell and his hunch was confirmed when Elizabeth's eyes widened in recognition.

"Yes, it is." She took the earring. "Where did you find it?"

"Uh…it was caught on my shirt pocket," John said hesitantly. "I guess we must have danced or something."

For a moment Elizabeth stared at the earring, turning it silently in her fingers. "I guess we must have," she said quietly, looking up at him. Their gazes locked and he couldn't help wondering what it had felt like holding her close and how she had responded.

"Elizabeth, I…" he stopped, wanting to say something but not knowing what. Elizabeth broke eye contact and scooped up her laptop and files.

"I'm sorry, John. I've got a meeting," she said, and left.

* * *

A week later the tension hadn't lifted. They didn't avoid each other, but neither did they seek each other out the way they had done before. Whenever she and John were in the same room it was only a matter of time before the atmosphere became charged.

Most of the time everything was fine. They would slip into their normal, easy banter and the calm that John's presence usually instilled would settle around her like a blanket. But then, without warning, Elizabeth's evil mind would evilly remind her how much she liked the way his chest looked in that black shirt and she was lost. Or she would catch him staring at her with the same scorching longing he'd had in his eyes after he had returned her earring and he would mumble something and vamoose.

Elizabeth dealt with the situation in a tried and true fashion: by immersing herself even more fully in running Atlantis. Which was why she was now sitting cross-legged (something she would regret later) in a room that smelled of candles and incense, honing her much-neglected meditation skills. It wasn't how she _really_ wanted to relax—that much she could admit to herself—but it helped.

Teyla had proposed the session with the observation that Atlantis' leader seemed to have been unusually busy lately and would perhaps benefit from the opportunity to clear her mind. Then she had mentioned that Elizabeth's other colleagues were concerned about the hours she was working and Elizabeth knew that taking some downtime was not merely a suggestion.

Taking a deep breath of herb-scented air, she had to admit that the change of scene and pace was needed. She said as much to Teyla when they had finished and were tidying away the paraphernalia and the other woman smiled. "You are welcome to join me more often. You are a much less trying companion than Ronon," she said dryly.

"Yes, I can imagine," chuckled Elizabeth. She plumped the cushion she had been sitting on and placed it back on the sofa. "I appreciate the offer, but…"

"There are many demands on your time," Teyla supplied.

"In a nutshell, yes."

Once she had extinguished the last of the candles, Teyla turned to her with a sympathetic expression. "Believe me when I say I understand," she said. "I meditate with the knowledge that I could use this time for many other things—planning for my people, assisting my friends, training. However…" She tilted her head and her tone changed to one of gentle persuasion that Elizabeth knew well. "I know that I can accomplish all those things more effectively when I am balanced within myself so I believe it is time well spent."

"Balance, huh? It's an elusive thing, at least in my experience."

"In mine as well," Teyla agreed, sharing her smile. "I was taught that human needs are not limited to the physical. Contemplation, amusement, intimacy—all these are necessary if an individual is to," she paused to search for words, "to function at maximum capacity, as Doctor McKay would say."

"Not unlike Atlantis," Elizabeth mused as she retrieved her jacket. "Needing three ZPMs to reach its full potential."

"Yes," said Teyla. "And I believe the appropriate Earth phrase for both situations is 'easier said than done.'"

Elizabeth returned to her own quarters feeling refreshed but with more on her mind than before. If Teyla was the master of subtlety, _she_ was the master of reading between the lines and she didn't for a moment think it was really meditation she was being encouraged to make time for.

* * *

Elizabeth waved her hand in front of a glowing door control and stepped gingerly into the lab where Radek had said she would find Rodney. He was the only person who could answer questions she no longer wanted to ignore. She took in the state of the room, one deep in the bowels of the city, and raised an eyebrow. Rodney had assured her that his latest pet project, attempting to communicate with "Sam" the whale who was back in town, had a relatively low risk of destroying the city but she couldn't help but feel wary at the sight of cables and wires criss-crossing the room like silly string, code streaming across the screens of half a dozen laptops, and not a scientist in sight. Noticing a doorway on the far side of the lab she headed that way, stepping carefully over duct-taped bundles of cables.

Passing near one of the laptops (it looked like she needed to have another word with Rodney about monopolizing resources) she heard faint noises and paused to listen. The Ancients' whale translation program was running and spitting out what sounded like broken Ancient. She was listening intently, picking out the occasional phrase, when her attention was caught by something even more interesting: conversation emanating from the room at the back of the lab.

"Yes, McKay, you can."

John sounded frustrated, which, granted, wasn't unusual when it came to Rodney.

"Look," replied Rodney, sounding equally exasperated, "it's not just about Elizabeth ordering me not to. This stuff is personal, you know?"

"I'm not asking for a blow-by-blow. I just need to know if I did anything to upset, uh, anybody."

"And by 'anybody,' I'm assuming you mean Elizabeth?" McKay responded with his customary bored snark.

There was a moment's silence and Elizabeth froze. Knowing it was a shady move, she slipped out of sight of the doorway and listened.

"Oh come on, even _I_ noticed there's something off about you two lately."

"Well, yeah, Elizabeth then."

Another, longer silence.

"If I tell you will you go away?"

Elizabeth had to smirk at the plaintive tone.

"Yes."

"Fine." There was a loud sigh, then, "I think it's safe to say that Elizabeth had no objections to anything you did. Quite the opposite in fact."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_Good question,_ Elizabeth thought, biting her lip.

"Aren't you supposed to be gone?"

"_McKay_."

"Okay, okay. But you owe me big for this. It was disturbing enough seeing it the first time around."

"So…?"

"Um, well, you spent the first couple of hours mooning while Elizabeth was making nice with the natives. Eventually you dragged her over to sit with you and you both got all mushy and, seriously, do we really have to—"

"Rodney!"

Elizabeth listened wide-eyed as Rodney reluctantly spilled the beans. Her face burned when she heard how he had practically had to pry the two of them apart. When he finished the part in the Jumper she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She had her answers, and more. The fact of her and John having _both_ ended up here boded well for what she wanted to do next.

* * *

John sighed and redirected his blank gaze to _War and Peace_ (page 458). He hadn't read a word but somehow it felt less like brooding if he had a book open in front of him and who was checking anyway?

Honestly, he wasn't sure how he felt about what he had badgered McKay into revealing. Unspoken awareness of his and Elizabeth's mutual attraction he could deal with but knowing for certain that she felt as deeply as he did was a different story. And probably wasn't going to help with the whole 'can't be in a room with her for five minutes without wondering what it would be like to kiss her' thing.

Going for a run was beginning to look like a good idea and he'd just put down his book to look for running shoes when the object of his melancholic thoughts turned up, unforeseen, at his door. Even if he had been expecting her, it wouldn't been with a tupperware container in one hand, a DVD in the other, and a smile. Momentarily distracted by how pretty she looked with her hair tied back, he quickly recalled his manners and greeted her as casually as if he hadn't been thinking about her all afternoon.

"Hey."

"Hey. Am I interrupting anything?" she asked.

"Nope, come on in. I was just looking for an excuse to not go running."

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, flopping into a seated position on his bed and motioning for her to take the couch. Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, this," she held up the container, "contains popcorn and Athosian candy. And this," she held up the movie, "is the new Indiana Jones film that came in the data-stream from Earth this afternoon. I was hoping I could convince you to keep me company."

She accompanied the last with a small shrug and he saw that she was watching his response carefully. He knew why: they had had their balcony chats and they had watched movies together with other members of the expedition, but this would be the first time they had done something just the two of them, just for fun.

"Sounds good," he replied. "Here?"

His assent was rewarded with a warm smile that, in turn, made his heart beat a little faster.

The next few minutes should have been awkward but, miraculously, weren't. He suspected that was Elizabeth's doing. It was she who kept up teasing small talk while showing him how to set up the movie, unhesitatingly spread the single blanket over both of their knees and, when their hands brushed while reaching for the popcorn, playfully admonished him to "Keep your hands to yourself, Colonel." John had an inkling of what was going on here and he liked it.

He liked it even better when, not long into the movie, Elizabeth sidled across the small space between them to rest her body against his. She was the ideal movie-watching companion, he quickly decided. Unlike certain others, she didn't talk through the important parts or hog the popcorn and she didn't feel the need to rant in detail about scientific inaccuracies. And she smelled _really_ nice. He even managed to pull off the old 'yawn, stretch, arm around her' move unscathed, though he felt her shoulders twitch with suppressed amusement.

By the time they had scoffed all the junk food and the credits were rolling, John felt like the tangle his life had seemed to be in for the last fortnight had reassembled itself with all the threads exactly where they were supposed to be.

Elizabeth hopped up to turn the movie off, leaving the screen pulsating gently with the Ancient equivalent of a screensaver which imbued their corner of his darkened quarters with a soft, amber glow. John couldn't help admiring her silhouetted figure. As they had so many times recently, his eyes settled on her lips and he couldn't help wondering, yet again…

"You're trying to remember us kissing, aren't you?"

Caught, he stiffened and Elizabeth chuckled. She sat back down beside him with a shy smile. "I overheard your talk with Rodney earlier," she confessed, her gaze flicking to meet his and then away again.

_Crap._ "You did?"

"It's okay, I was on my way to grill him myself."

"Great minds, huh?" He cracked a grin and got an eyebrow-raise in return.

"I guess you could say that." She sighed and leaned back into the couch, hands clasped around one bent knee. "I had my suspicions… But I wanted to know for sure."

"Yeah, me too," he admitted. "Didn't seem like the kind of opportunity I'd have passed up… What, uh, tipped you off?"

"You left a mark."

He looked over sharply and was met with sparkling eyes above a wide smirk. His own grin broadened. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I wish I could remember."

He said it without thinking, distracted with wondering how and when they had gotten so close he could feel her breath on his skin.

"So do I," Elizabeth replied softly. "But since that's unlikely to happen I suppose the next best thing would be to—Mm."

Their lips collided before she had time to finish the sentence. John reacted tentatively, having every intention of easing their way from friendship into something more. However it seemed his body (and Elizabeth) had other plans and it wasn't long before his hands found her waist and the kiss deepened. Still, when they ran out of breath he had to ask.

"You sure?"

Elizabeth dropped her hands from where they cupped his jaw to clasp them on her lap and he began to wonder if maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.

"John, I knew when I signed on for this position that it would require a certain level of… detachment from those under me. And I accepted that I would probably be lonely sometimes, not to mention celibate."

A rueful half-smile accompanied her last remark and John returned it sympathetically. Rumors aside, the last few years hadn't exactly been his most prolific either in that regard. He sighed and started to retract his hands from her waist but Elizabeth caught them in her own and held tight.

"What I hadn't considered," she continued, "until recently, is that there might come a time when keeping my distance might be neither necessary nor advisable."

John looked into her warm eyes. "Oh."

"I need this," she said soberly. "And I want you. That is, if you—"

There being no point in letting her waste time continuing _that_ thought, he answered her with another kiss.

* * *

Leaning against the doorway to her bathroom, Dr. Weir folded her arms and let her gaze rest on the disheveled Air Force Colonel in her bed. A soft smile spread across her features as she allowed the 'end' of their 'date' to play out once again for her mind's eye. Cuddling their way through a second movie, John gallantly walking her back to her quarters, the sweet goodnight kiss at her doorway that had made it clear that neither had really wanted to say goodnight just yet.

John stirred, though his eyes remained closed, and Elizabeth's smile became a smirk when she saw his face stretch into an expression of ever-so-slightly-smug contentment.

She was under no illusions that this would be happily ever after, but it would be better. _Definitely better._ And considering her life was already pretty damned extraordinary, that was quite a thought with which to begin the day.

**THE END**


End file.
